To this the king: “Goddess, thou biddest me do what I would fain do and askest a boon that I wish to grant: thy entreaties were not needed for this. Does forgetfulness so wholly cloud my mind that I will not remember Probus, beneath whose leadership I have seen all Italy and her war-weary peoples come again to prosperity? Winter shall cause Nile’s rising, hinds shall make rivers their element, dark-flowing Indus shall be ice-bound, terror-stricken once again by the banquet of Thyestes the sun shall stay his course and fly for refuge back into the east, all this ere Probus can fade from my memory.”
He spake, and now the speedy messenger hies him to Rome. Straightway the choirs chant and the seven hills re-echo their tuneful applause. Joy is in the heart of that aged mother whose skilled fingers now make ready gold-embroidered vestment and garments agleam with the thread which the Seres comb out from their delicate plants, gathering the leafy fleece of the wool-bearing trees. These long threads she draws out to an equal length with the threads of gold and by intertwining them makes one golden cord; as fair Latona gave scarlet garments to her divine offspring when they returned to the now firm-fixèd shrine of Delos their foster-island, Diana leaving the forest glades and bleak Maenalus, her unerring bow wearied with much hunting, and Phoebus bearing the sword still dripping with black venom from the slaughtered Python. Then their dear island laved the feet of its acknowledged
lambit amica pedes ridetque Aegaeus alumnis 190
lenior et blando testatur gaudia fluctu.
Sic Proba praecipuo natos exornat amictu:
quae decorat mundum, cuius Romana potestas
fetibus augetur. credas ex aethere lapsam
stare Pudicitiam vel sacro ture vocatam 195
Iunonem Inachiis oculos advertere templis.